Another Route
by GlacierFox
Summary: A twist on a scene from Volume 4 of Life by Keiko Suenobu. What if Ayumu didn't try to destroy Katsumi's cellphone but rather Katsumi himself? What would happen and how would the resulting events be different?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – I don't own the manga Life or any of its characters. It all belongs to Keiko Suenobu.

1.

"I like how I got the little drops of blood trickling out of your wrist like that," Ayumu distinctly heard _him_ mutter before the sound of footsteps retreated out the door.

What could she do?

Amazing what things are possible in the first few hours of the day. Already, it was noon and Shiiba Ayumu had been blown to bits by the hurricane formally known as Nishidate High School. Already, that sea of once-friendly faces fell under the beck and call of one Anzai Manami and was ready to practically gnaw on whatever was left of her…what was it, again…self-respect? Or was sanity a better answer? Ayumu could care less; she was truly alone. How ironic that she tried so hard to be nice after the _incident_ with Shinozuka, turned the other cheek for all around her and instead had _both_ pummeled to a pulp.

So what to do now? Huddled up in a ball in the nurse's office, her only sanctuary from the horrors outside and…no, it was not. _He_ came, right when the nurse left, that boy, no, that _monster_ she had come to despise every fiber of named Sako Katsumi. _He_ came, _daring_ to sit by her side and ask if he could _comfort_ her. Why was it so easy to push _him_ away? Why couldn't she do the same to Manami when the latter tried to make her mouth a pin cushion? For that matter, why did she continue wanting Manami to like her even _now_? It was all so unfair, it made her want to cry.

'Do you want me to comfort you?'

Ayumu hugged herself around her knees. Those were _his_ words. So why did he say them? Why did he choose to visit her? Was it to gloat? Was it to see how she was…impossible. He didn't care a _damn_ about her. He tied her up as a cat with yarn and made her his toy mouse to play with and discard. No, he just wanted her to suffer for he was a _sadist_.

Why then, and Ayumu covered her ears at this latest uninvited doubt-maggot,_ why did he go through all the trouble in the first place_? Why all the extremes he put himself and her through? He didn't have to put in the time to go _this_ far, didn't have to blackmail her with those pictures–

The _pictures_! Arms dropped and Ayumu looked at her left hand. Wide eyes took in the glop of blood that soaked through her sleeve. Her thoughts got entangled from the fast pace set by panic. Blood! Sleeve! He knows! He _knows_! Cellphone! _Picture_! He _has_ it! He's going to _show_ them! _Show _them…!

There was no more time to think. Time was never on Ayumu's side; why should it be now? But _action_…Ayumu's eyes glimmered, _action_ might. Action might…take _pity_. He was just down the hall. If she _acted_…if she was quick enough…she could _stop_ him. Yes! Delirious happiness grabbed the reins to Ayumu's limbs and caused them to tremble in anticipated movement. She was ready. As long as Shiiba Ayumu had legs, she was not going to be denied this time…not anymore.

In a flurry of blankets and sheets, Ayumu leapt from the bed she was on and tore out of the room. Those very legs of hers went up and down furiously like spokes on a wheel and gave the illusion that she was flying. Her mind too was flying at a rate faster than her muscles and all she knew or cared was that she will_ not _be_ denied_. Forcing her world-weary and bitter heart to pump more blood, it wasn't long till Ayumu reached the source of her misery.

Indeed, it wasn't long either till students walking from class to class began to notice her. And notice her they did. What a sight she was: skirt torn to shreds, hell in her eyes, and left sleeve dotted crimson! Particularly startling was how fast she ran as it was a given Ayumu failed pathetically in gym class. Yet desperation does have its way of making the awkward seem graceful if but briefly and here she was.

When Ayumu finally caught sight of Katsumi's back, which was bare of any students to charge through and defenseless, a terrible scream reminiscent of an animal in pain hurled itself from her voice box. It was all the warning Katsumi got before the raging wildcat pounced and knocked him down on the hard, tiled floor.

None were more surprised by Ayumu's action than Ayumu herself. This was not what she had intended, no, her plan of forty-five seconds previous was to remove his cellphone somehow, preferably by erasing its existence for _good_. Revenge, as it turned out, seemed to have a stronger influence on Ayumu than reputation used to have. Now _she_ was the dominant one and _not_ him. And again the question came: "so what to do now?"

Thoughts of violence Ayumu never dreamed _she_ could've possessed began to whisper fervently for her to _kill_, _kill_, _kill_, and conscience weakened, she complied and curled her fingers around Katsumi's throat. She had no other plans, no way of knowing what she should do next. What she _was_ sure about was that she wanted to make the _monster _Sako Katsumi feel a little, at _least_ a little, of the pain she had felt that he _caused_. The nightmares of being bound and helpless returned and urged her to further tighten her grip, digging her nails into taut, beating flesh.

Ayumu faintly heard the typical school life around her stop and focus. This made her feel giddy for she finally got their _attention_. Her eyes also focused; so far gone was she that she couldn't see Katsumi inches away. _Now_ was he feeling scared? Or did he hate her for standing up to him?

It was none of those things. Sako Katsumi's face at that moment was strange; surprise could be detected and so could shock. Then again, those were typical reactions to getting unexpectedly choked. He displayed neither fear nor hate and there wasn't even any sign of struggle. If Ayumu had been more aware, she would've noticed that no frantic hands clawed up her arms to stop their lethal movements.

However, that was beside the point. To the growing crowd of gossip-intoxicated bystanders, Ayumu's positioning over Katsumi was not in her favor. She was straddling him, their chests brushing each other. And what's more, she was leaning down to whisper some message in his ear. Anyone would've assumed at a careless glance that it was one of romance or seduction or both.

"_Tell_ them," Ayumu hissed her 'declaration of love' through gritted teeth. "I want you to tell them the truth. If you _don't_ tell them," in a threatening gesture, she shoved her fingers harder against Katsumi's neck until the tips of them turned white, "I will kill you. Do you _hear_ me?" She could hear a voice she thought she knew to be her own rising to a fever pitch. Since when was Shiiba Ayumu so _cruel_? That didn't make sense…and neither did her situation. So she couldn't be blamed for what happened next. "_I want you to tell them what you did to me..._!"

"Ayumu!"

The unfortunate girl jerked her head up to see the source of the interruption, viewing the world through frenzy-colored lenses. She tried to make sense of the picture. Ah yes, curly golden hair, mascara lashes, glossy lips, Ayumu knew who it was; good old sanity had not abandoned her. Manami, her friend of two brief weeks, was there along with her equally dolled-up cohorts. They, the five of them, would've been considered prettier if their brows weren't furrowed and if their eyes hadn't been blackened by _hate_. Why Anzai Manami's eyes flashed love then _hate_ then love again in a perverse sort of merry-go-round was a reason Ayumu didn't remember and didn't wish to revisit. There was never any real, honest bond that existed between her and Manami; therefore, nothing was to be lost except _Ayumu_ because Manami and everyone else thought she was a natural _loser_.

Another noise came out of Ayumu: laughter or what was _supposed_ to be laughter. Rather, it was a broken string of notes that likened itself to a malfunctioning music box. Ayumu continued the horrible melody, forgetting to swallow the saliva that leaked past the corner of her mouth, a minor setback for sure.

When the sounds ceased, Ayumu lowered her head down to where it previously was. Her grip on Katsumi's neck remained firm the entire time. A trace of a smile clung to her lips.

"As to your accusations of my feelings…" Suddenly Ayumu showed her face again to Manami and the tense mob. Plastered upon it was the same smile but everything about it was now bright and cheerful. Despite her earlier outburst, it gave her a glow of genuine happiness which was obviously not the case. "I _adore_ him," Ayumu proclaimed in an even sweeter voice that echoed eerily of Manami's. This surreal illusion quite literally broke when Ayumu raised her right hand in a fist to strike Katsumi viciously across the temple. A groan and the thud of his head bouncing against the floor from the impact followed.

Within seconds, half the girls present exhaled gasps or covered their mouths as an alternative. Physical violence inflicted on a beloved class heartthrob was an unthinkable miscalculation to their mental processes, especially if said violence was instigated by the weaker animal they themselves preyed upon. It was natural social order, survival of the fittest, being contradicted in front of their very eyes.

Some dared to look Ayumu directly in the face in order to satisfy the universal question of 'is this girl _serious_?' Those who did so found an empty house on fire and no joke in sight. Ayumu was gone and not gone, still there and really somewhere else, her eyes shining so bright it was impossible to tell what she was feeling. Not that anyone cared to know of course. They never wanted to before. Nonetheless, the human jack-o-lantern expression was a new one of Ayumu's and made its impact. Though deceptively hollow, it shot for a deliberate target and that target was Manami.

"I would _lov_e to wring my hands around his _lily...__white...__neck_." The artificial sugar-sweet voice returned, having adapted a bitter flavor emphasized by Ayumu's hands squeezing Katsumi's throat increasingly tighter if possible. It was then that Ayumu received the reaction she craved: unable to handle the crushing pressure, Katsumi released an incoherent cry for air. "Would _this_ be what it'll take for you to believe me?

"Or should I take it a step _further,_" Ayumu's dry, chapped mouth stretched into a warped grin, "and _kill_ him? I would gladly do it," she rambled on for she truly wanted to know whether ending the life of Sako Katsumi would bring needed profit to her place on the popularity stock market. At that point, action had become her best friend; the possibilities it brought were limitless and she was all for trying them out. Suddenly the very concept of murder didn't seem so bad...if it meant having Manami respecting and trusting her. "I had wanted to kill this bastard for a _while_."

Chaos pierced through the surrounding crowd like a rapier upon the last of those words. Shrieks and shouts littered the air in various pitches with the ones from the girls being the most audible: "Murder! _Murderer_! _She's going to kill Katsumi-kun_!" Only Manami proved calm. In spite of the commotion about her, that dark eye of hatred remained intact.

Ayumu found herself to be unmoved by the initial reaction. Rather she felt white-hot leaden anger fuse through her veins at what was being said. How dare they accuse her display of the truth? If neither action nor talk could save her then _what_ could?

"So that's how it's going to be then, eh?" said Ayumu full of contempt. "Either way, I'm the villain, you're the victim."

Unexpectedly most of the students forgot their fear as though in a dream and tuned in to Ayumu once again. The breakdown was brought down, the raving momentarily sobered. Every day did bring new things to light; none of the witnesses had seen an Ayumu so cynical and crusted over. It was a curiosity not unlike peering beyond cage bars at animals in a zoo, reading newspaper articles on the latest serial killer. That was all.

Out of the strange twist that is irony, when everyone else stopped, Manami moved her hand in the tiniest, unacknowledged gesture. Unacknowledged it was except to Ayumu's sharpened eyesight, made so by paranoia. Her paranoia in turn magnifying this singular event, Ayumu jumped on the assumption that Manami was trying to get away. Ayumu's eyes widened and the leaden feeling intensified.

"You better not hide behind one of your followers," Ayumu growled deep within her throat a little more forcefully than she had meant. Then she progressed to borderline shouting, her wavering voice challenging Manami. "I've dealt with more than _my_ fair share! I want this between you and _me_!"

A moment passed where the two girls did nothing else other than stare at each other. Everyone held their breath for the deadly cable of tension to snap.

"I have nothing to lose," blurted Ayumu, her voice a great deal less intimidating than before. It was obvious she had begun to doubt herself, that maybe this _wasn't_ such a great idea. Little by little, the insecure Ayumu of old was crawling back into the picture. More words would do her no good and would make her out to be an avoiding fool. That's what Ayumu would've followed if she hadn't boxed herself into so tight a corner. Unlike some past experiences, there was no turning back.

Ayumu decided then to add to the damage by making her serious intentions loud and clear: "I can kill him if I want! Maybe it's time you fight your own battles!"

Leaning forward, Ayumu watched her words take their effect on Manami. The gauntlet had been thrown and only a matter of time remained. Gold curls shaking, eyes glistening, nostrils flared, just the one thing Manami hadn't done yet was engage actual, violent part in her anger. All it would take would be a few more remarks…which were exactly what Ayumu did.

"And another thing," Ayumu recklessly pressed, embracing the notion she was doomed and forsaken, "do you really think the teachers will care? They'll probably be just like you, seeing me as the one who started it since I was the first to _crack_!"

That set it off. Manami's restraint, what little was left, was gone. By the spoken reality of authority figures being absent, nothing more held Manami back from going on the offensive. The other students must've seen the change in Manami's demeanor for returning thereafter was the chorus of voices, this time in strained allegro.

"Mana, don't do it!"

"It's not worth it!"

Their pleas fell on deaf ears. As soon as the useless phrases entered the atmosphere, as if in provocation, Manami went charging at Ayumu, possessed by the spirit of an ill-tempered bull. It was unnecessary to explain the rest: Ayumu got knocked to the floor reeling courtesy of Manami's manicured fist.

Somewhere, a couple of girls shrieked.

Struggling to open her eyes, Ayumu made out to her left a dark, hunched blob lifting itself up. Ayumu was barely getting to her own feet when another body slammed her down again, causing her to wheeze. Her head smacked against the hard surface below and from that point on, it was a whirlwind of stars and color.

Peculiar it was to say how though the revived pandemonium swelled up irreversibly, it decreased upon approaching Ayumu. The animated surroundings before her were being blurred away like television mosaic, sounds growing duller, and she couldn't find the strength to push off the extra weight _crushing_ her. An idea, one of those simultaneously stupid and brilliant ones people have right before they die or so Ayumu _believed_ she was dying, inspired Ayumu to give a wispy chuckle; having your former best friend kill you, how sad was that? What a way to end it all! Maybe that was why she came up with this crazy plan. It was practically suicidal and since she didn't possess the courage…

…like Hatori...

'Thank you.'

That smile, so warm and accepting, dare it be the glorious dawn…Ayumu would gladly take it as the last image to pass her retinas. No, she decided, she'd keep that precious memory in her heart where it would remain always. Ideals you couldn't live to deserve remembrance for what they could've been. And then Ayumu distantly wondered if Hatori herself was a "could've-been," something that had the potential to mean more…

Still, Ayumu considered as she drifted ever so slowly towards an endless, numbly black void, she'd never know now.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Darkness...all Ayumu knew was darkness, like living in an inkwell and corked to a close. She floated in darkness that circumnavigated her veins and routed them the final destination. It coated her intestines, stained her eyeballs past their sockets...

Ayumu had no cemented faith, no spiritual sidewalks to guide her troubled path. The majority of her worries lay in the present tense; they didn't concern so-called "higher powers." So there was plenty of room to roam at least.

This freedom led Ayumu to assume she was in no specific place. The last specific place wouldn't allow a centimeter in insight. It would've boxed her in whatever category fit fastest, a square peg at a round center. Between stages, then, what Western cultures would label as...purgatory, right?

If this was purgatory, it wasn't especially bad, considering what labels could mean otherwise. What was bad about neutrality? Come to consider it, what was bad about this darkness, the color black? Wasn't black the color of neutrality? Ayumu believed it so. She had once, in fact, flipped a science book's pages. It was the sole bit of trivia she remembered from her lackluster shots at school while crisscrossing the crossfire of bullying. Black absorbs every color, even the vaguest, even herself.

Ayumu grew steady in content. She blended smoothly with the environment as a minor ingredient would. It was what she always wanted, always strived; she wouldn't be ostracized or criticized. Her naked form went unmarked by shame since the invisible didn't have defining marks on their inner arms. No concealment to lie under, revealing each truth she existed.

Floating...a memory rippled, that of a lake, another time, when...

Just then, Ayumu ripped away from the environment due to gravitational pull, a premature newborn from the womb. Amid jumbling limbs, she wrestled with the pull. Bubbles swirled out her screaming mouth. No! Let her wait! Bad things will happen! She isn't ready!

Granted no consent on the matter, not that her consent ever mattered, Ayumu transitioned from floating black towards bathing white.

Upon regaining consciousness, it wasn't through waking for Ayumu. It was through sensing. She smelled medical sterility, touched the cot below sheathed in plastic. Essentially speaking, she sensed towards identity. People just weren't that prone to waking after taking themselves for dead.

She soon reached the next step of catatonics anonymous: realization. The nurse's office. Was this some sort of deja vu witchcraft?

Steering her head drowsily, Ayumu surveyed the nurse's office. Paperwork files assembled in stacks to sentinel health charts, it proved to be a system in temporary stasis. Thus Ayumu accustomed herself rather quickly to the routine and the consistency. Such a duet allowed her guard to relax.

Oddly enough, it relaxed her to the point where she wanted to redo herself sleep. She could have regular sleep that didn't smother her still; the cot pleased her fingertips with its plush offer of hospitality. Regular sleep would indeed be a merciful experience. She was almost done looking around, anyway.

Then a figure emerged on Ayumu's left...then a person...then a _monster_.

Ayumu immediately stiffened as though in the throes of rigor mortis. Pondering the afterlife was pointless for someone in her predicament. She already had many personal demons to suffer from; a perfect example was right in front of her.

Katsumi, the monster in question, sat cozily next to Ayumu on the cot no differently than lounging out on the couch after school. His eyes slid shut as he was lost to a wistful smile. "That was quite a show you gave," he spoke at long last. Ayumu raised a brow, swapping exclamation for question. There was a strikingly seductive lilt to his voics that made him sound...impressed?

No way. It couldn't be. She shouldn't race ahead of conclusions so soon. Didn't she conclude just as soon that she had died? Ah, but that strange look Katsumi had on earlier was back as well...

For all intents and purposes, Katsumi was there in his natural habitat by technicality. After all, Ayumu wasn't the only one injured in the hallway scuffle. The nurse's office would naturally be the habitat for a speedy recovery.

Ayumu, however, was in no condition to adapt, let alone recover. Her mouth hung vacantly loose, her gaze that of opaque windows in late fog, mental frequency at blip status. All that mattered was that Ayumu had come back to Ayumu, propelled in the reverse situation for additional measure. All that mattered was that today wasn't going to put her out of her misery. No, it was going to drag her by the leash into further horrors like the dog it reduced her to.

Ayumu's mouth widened fracture by fracture. She wanted a scream to match her mouth's size but it was instead a squeak, a fracture. Even her scream was paralyzed with fear.

Katsumi watched Ayumu carefully all the while, his smile waning into the land of the vague. When her squeaks curdled stuck, he laid a solitary finger upon her chapped lips, bridging the gap. "Don't bother. Everyone's with Manami," he assured her in the method of a genuinely helpful teacher.

By the time Katsumi removed his finger, Ayumu was on the verge of hyperventilation. Her mind tapped into its survival mechanism chamber almost instantly; it was fight or flight. She had become a cornered animal. But that also meant animal fury...

There was only one choice. Ayumu didn't spare a second before launching into her attack.

Pounding her fists into Katsumi's chest, Ayumu was a hysterical mess. She flailed and wailed, sometimes incoherently, sometimes "_leave_, _leave!_" There existed no consistency. Her anguish was far too great to allow that happen. She sought only to topple the monumental cruelty represented by his very presence.

Regretfully, Ayumu's energy from her tirade expended as hastily as it expanded. For all that race-track ambition, she earned just a few meters more in distance. If anything, it pounded into her that Katsumi meant what he said. Her trembling fists loosened their clench and slid down the slope of Katsumi's chest.

But Katsumi rigidly snatched Ayumu's arm, the one with the wounded wrist. Ayumu lifted her head like a horse's terror at thunderous skies.

It was a fact that Katsumi's facial features were well-defined, in keeping with his heartthrob status. Now, they were literally chiseled, his expression carved from the coldest, brittle rock. He glanced down to Ayumu's wound, spotlighting how infected it had gotten. Then he went back to maintaining eye contact with Ayumu. Eyes sticking to hers like flypaper, he latched his lips directly onto the wound.

Ayumu went mute with shock. She gawked at the spectacle. Katsumi could've exposed a parasitic twin under his shirt and it would've been identically expected. She must be dreaming. Who does this? Who acts like this?

Katsumi's next action bended Ayumu's comprehension till it snapped. He was now kissing the wound, no, making out with it, dipping his tongue's tip into its pocket. He treated it the same way he would a mouth belonging to some pretty girl he fantasized over. His dream had become her reality.

And it still wasn't enough. He kept at it until the clot gave way. He kept at it until a section burst forth, spilling out its inhibited contents. Moaning softly, Katsumi welcomed Ayumu's blood with open jowls. Audible gulps were heard from him, his eyes slitting then darkening in savage pleasure.

Ayumu knew, of course, the question wasn't whether she was disgusted from watching. It was when it would become unbearable. In a heartbeat, Ayumu achieved that moment, that crowning level of revulsion. It was when Katsumi sunk his teeth at last into the congealed patch of skin and proceeded to bite it up to make it bigger.

Shaking her head, Ayumu yanked her wrist to herself. Katsumi, however, lunged forward, clutching Ayumu's wrist with both hands. He resumed his work with greater force, tearing and chewing through the last of the clot. Ayumu fell back on the nurse's cot, sobbing.

When Katsumi was satisfied, he removed his mouth from Ayumu's ruined wrist. The corners of that mouth were smeared an unmistakable red. "Before I do that," Katsumi grinned condescendingly with gruesome teeth, "find me another girl willing to bleed _more_."

Eyes widening, Ayumu fled for the door. Its knob wouldn't turn...how convenient. Katsumi didn't disappoint. He planned this as thoroughly as the last time with that fake family nameplate. Nevertheless, Ayumu fumbled around with the doorknob. She wasn't quite able to get an adequate grip anyway due to nerves and sweaty hands.

Abruptly, Ayumu stopped her efforts. Her trembling traced a squiggle from her shoulders to her waist. She whirled about to face Katsumi who had been leaning on the nurse's cot in waiting.

Ayumu glared at Katsumi, supplying the act of intimidation with her fear. "Let me out," she demanded thickly and gulped at her fear with the impatience of cough medicine.

"This is the thanks I get?" Katsumi pouted, perhaps to be cute since he was used to receiving his way from others. He pushed himself off the nurse's cot with the heel of his palms. "I was the one who brought you here, you know. Were it not for me -"

Ayumu didn't let Katsumi finish. "_You!_" she exclaimed. From the way she said it, the word might as well have been "eureka!" "This is _your_ fault! If you hadn't come over to my house, none of this would've happened!"

Katsumi blinked, eyelids flicking the accusation aside. "Personally, I think you caused most of it yourself." After sparing a second thought, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. "Who was the one who kept on following me after I broke up with Manami?"

"Manami was dying because of you so it _is_ your fault!" shrieked Ayumu, own hands balling at her sides.

"And what if I hadn't broken up with Manami?" inquired Katsumi with such uncharacteristic venom, Ayumu lost track of her words. "Would things have been any different?" The verbal spar tilted in his favor, Katsumi continued chipping away. "Would you have been more accepted? Would they have noticed you were _alive?_"

Ayumu flinched; Katsumi struck through the filling of a weak spot. She stared down at her scuffed-up shoes, motionless.

Katsumi, having said his piece, advanced towards Ayumu, bristling with resolution. "Face it. You were always alone, even when you weren't."

Katsumi came to a stop at about half a meter from Ayumu. He had no reason to stop. He chose to stop. He was playing the role of predator, leaving the metaphorical mouse hanging by its tail.

Ayumu let loose a huff. She immediately looked at Katsumi, brows forbiddingly arched. "I owe you _nothing_."

Katsumi was unfazed, channeling Manami in the science lab. His presence loaded and cocked with judgment that shot Ayumu's heart full of holes. Reacting to the troubling comparison, Ayumu stepped one foot back, burdening her full weight on the appendage.

"Yeah, you do."

'Yes, you are.'

"'I understand,'" Katsumi recited his prescription formula of what he believed. He took Ayumu's abused wrist yet again. "'We're the same.'" Suddenly, he shoved his thumb into the mangled hole, burrowing under Ayumu's flesh as far as possible.

What _pain!_ Ayumu gave out a cry; her knees buckled. _What pain!_ She was being ripped apart. To think that she was being ripped apart by a mere thumb. "No, we're not!" she squealed, shaking her head again, anguish rekindled. Even then, she yanked her wrist at Katsumi's heavy hold. "I'm not into pain, okay?! I only do this to get rid of it!"

Katsumi's hand dropped and Ayumu didn't care why it did. She cradled her wrist futilely to her chest. Katsumi stared at Ayumu, face twitching, before he broke loudly into laughter without mirth. Ayumu narrowed her eyes, cradling her wrist closer. This laughter was the same kind when she reminded him of his forgotten vows to Manami. It was laughter that deformed him, made Ayumu cower at what lay beyond.

"Are you _listening_ to yourself?! What does _that_ mean?!" ranted Katsumi, his wild gestures slicing the air. "And you have the nerve to say that _I'm_ crazy!" In a gust of energy, he grabbed Ayumu's upper arms and brutally slammed her against the wall, making her give another cry.

Though Ayumu shielded herself with her arms, Katsumi's hands landed on either side of her. They framed her rigid shoulders, now aching from the blow. For a while, the two were lost to the sound of their panting.

Ayumu recoiled at Katsumi's expression that she had the bad luck of knowing. And why not? His ferocious leer was forged out of the stuff nightmares lurked. It distorted all traces of humanity, only intensifying with each passing second, much the same as peeling open a shriveled rind.

Useless...Ayumu's thoughts scrambled about, shoving over each other in a bottleneck. It was useless. There wasn't hope to sway his opinion even a tenth. His insanity was so convinced in its conviction, it was on the verge of merging with hers.

Legs wobbling down, Ayumu shrunk to the floor with Katsumi tumbling after her. His nails scratched the wall during his descent, peeling the paint, menacingly grating at Ayumu's eardrums. The imagery of the cat roared to the forefront of her mind.

Although to be accurate, Katsumi bore more in common with a rabid dog, especially given his rough tone. "You don't stand a chance outside, Ayumu," he growled, notably forgoing the inappropriate honorific he had for Ayumu in bluntness. "You'll never belong with normal people."

Ayumu persisted in reaching the door, be it knob or structure. Either would do to have hope less long-distance. Attention jumping to the left, she made a quick duck under Katsumi's arm belly-first. Crawling on all fours, she suppressed the whimpers ricocheting inside.

Katsumi shadowed Ayumu along the wall, scaling its surface. He blocked Ayumu's path once more with his arm and in addition, pressed the length of his upper body onto her. "Stay in here," he coaxed, nuzzling her cheek. "We'll both be sick. Let's reach the edge together."

Shuddering at Katsumi's breath steaming her skin, Ayumu only ducked again, motivation doubled by claustrophobia. However, this time, she overestimated her positioning and lost her balance. Tripping over her own limbs, Ayumu crumpled in a trash-bin heap.

The image of what Katsumi did afterwards came out as a blur. In any case, he was hunched over Ayumu on bended knees, effectively pinning the wretched girl. His hands seized her neck, her pulse throbbing through the makeshift cage.

It was then that Ayumu openly wept. Simmering tears gushed forth, rolling rivulets over her flushed face; even after she shut their source away, they still managed to leak through the creases. Surely this was the end. He was going to kill her. He was going to punish her. Why else would he choose strangulation as the method? Of course, he meant to kill. Kill, kill, kill...

Katsumi rubbed his warm lips on the shell of Ayumu's ear as he whispered "You too, Ayumu-chan."

Ayumu's sore eyelids fluttered open like jarred butterflies; the tears came to a halt. "What...?" she lengthened the word to span its enormity. What was his scheme? Wasn't he going to kill her?

Katsumi spoke each syllable slowly as if to mimic. "You...too."

All Ayumu could muster was a grunt. Katsumi then delivered a heated sigh straight into Ayumu's ear, causing her inner sensitivity to receive unpleasant pricks. "I want you to choke me," he growled huskily.

Ayumu significantly jolted and produced a second grunt. She had no words. Words were empty. There weren't enough words in the world to fill the disbelief she felt that instant. "You...want me to choke you," she repeated with the vacancy of a cave.

Katsumi's voice ironed itself into a decadent purr. "Oh yeah." He took Ayumu's earlobe into his scraping mouth, lips puckering in carnal bloom.

Ayumu paid the change no heed that she should've otherwise. She had her lost patience to thank. Because she lost her patience, Katsumi's trite stunts lost their importance. "_Why?_"

Katsumi released Ayumu's earlobe with a sleazy pop that oozed a snail trail behind. "Because I liked it."

That was _not_ the answer Ayumu expected to tolerate. Bypassing safer detours, her alleged mental train thundered off battered rails and hurtled off a cliff for a spectacular explosion. Did this excuse for a human being mean to say that her intent produced the opposite result? So even _that_ failed? "You _liked_ it," she seethed and clenched her fists to her sides.

For better angles of acknowledgement, Katsumi straightened up to a proper posture. Ayumu's rage could drill tunnels through him well beyond the room's capacity. Her gnashed teeth were bared to the gums in a bite. "I tried to _kill_ you _and you liked it!"_

Katsumi's response was laughter, normal laughter. It actually mellowed his aura a tinge. Ayumu loathed admitting it but she recognized this laughter too. It was the laughter that charmed both students and teachers in equal measure, laughter that once charmed Ayumu herself, once made her so giddy for impossible reasons. Now, it made her despair. It mocked the idyllic dreams she had at the semester's beginning. She so wished to have those first impressions back. Better still, she wished she never met Katsumi. That way, the impressions wouldn't have existed and she would've been immune to his lies.

"Of course, I did," declared Katsumi in good cheer, revoltingly devoid of any hesitation. Lapsing into a slouch, he confidentially added, "That's why you're special, remember?"

Ayumu rattled out her breath. In that instant, Katsumi confirmed himself. He may have been considered of different temperament before but with this, he was from a different dimension. Ayumu couldn't bear the thought behind his answer. It plummeted at the bottom of bottoms, the absolute worst.

Katsumi sucked in his lower lip before sharpening it into a smile sealed with frightening promises. "Why not do it at the same time?" he hungrily asked, eyes sparkling saucers. "It'll be _exciting_. Come on. Come on.

Harvesting Ayumu's wrists in a single swipe, Katsumi hastily spread Ayumu's fingers apart one by one before fashioning them around his neck in the manner he desired.

Ayumu didn't resist; her brain shut that ability off. What was there to know? She was a sixteen-year-old girl with limits. She hadn't been exposed to her daily dosage of coherency to function in hours. How was she supposed to cope with more madness? Katsumi's persistence overwhelmed her without end.

Predictably, Katsumi proved ecstatic. His cheeks were wholesome apples, pinched with dimples, his grin was that huge. He was even giggling. Ayumu never heard any boy her age giggle. Each detail spun with Ayumu's head about in a fractured waltz.

Katsumi stifled his giggling long enough to announce "okay" and automatically tightened his grip on Ayumu's neck, an arcade claw staking claim over its chosen prize.

Ayumu gagged, agony plowing her flat. She had underestimated just how much trouble she was in. Katsumi was so big and heavy, not the athletic type either yet he altered her respiration at a much faster pace. Bad enough he was choking her, but at this rate...

Plunging into primal fear's most traumatic depths, Ayumu made one last attempt to deter Katsumi. She grabbed for his shoulders, hooking her thumbs and catching them at his neck's enclave.

It was Katsumi's turn to gag. He faltered but then recovered in record time as though according to plan. Equally in record time, he regained imposing his grip and grin.

Ayumu writhed helplessly beneath Katsumi when she noticed something. Despite his stiff advantage over her person, Katsumi writhed alongside her as well. He shuffled his body repeatedly in the manner of a card player dissatisfied with their pile. It seemed his attention was centered on...Ayumu gasped. He was _moving_ against her leg. Just realizing that knocked the bile loose from Ayumu's stomach.

"Hey Ayumu-chan. Are you feeling it?" panted Katsumi, stiffening up lower ways with every covetous stroke up Ayumu's tense limb.

Ayumu shifted awkwardly, embarrassed at Katsumi's interest. Why did he bother? Why did he care? "What am I supposed to feel?" she managed to ask.

Katsumi noticed Ayumu's neutral thighs and let out a low, inquiring noise. "How come you're not joining me?" he murmured. "Didn't you _like_ it?" That last question was emphasized by Katsumi grinding his pelvis into Ayumu's thigh.

Ayumu's attention swam listlessly up towards the ceiling. She hoped its structure would miraculously collapse to rescue her from answering. She refused to answer. She must not answer. The implications would destroy whatever certainty she still clung to. Then the implications would mutate into options and...she must not answer.

Quickening the pace of his shuffling, Katsumi wasn't subtle about how much he craved Ayumu's answer for a stimulant. When that went unfulfilled, his eagerness degraded to a frustration pettier than a child's. "I'm _asking_ you," he nagged, squeezing petulantly. Ayumu's gag was so severe, her eyes popped out, triggering a coughing fit that grated her larynx. "Didn't you like...having me at your mercy...as you were at...mine?"

Soon, Katsumi forgot his demands as he approached gratification, jerking out spasms. Like Manami and her friends, he immersed in his own world. It was a world separate from Ayumu, one that guaranteed no access to her key differences.

There he was again, taking like always, Ayumu observed, brooding, her cough subsided. He was one to talk about nerve when he had to show up after everything she'd been through today. But, Ayumu remembered...he wanted her to join him.

Ayumu grew pale. No, no! Was she seriously considering it? It's disgusting! _He's_ disgusting! And she knew he wouldn't be stopping anytime soon for her which meant that they'd...Ayumu felt her insides bunch in knots. She wouldn't share _anything_ with him.

In that case, Ayumu would lie there and...watch Katsumi use her for personal pleasure, again. Ayumu grimaced, shuddering amid fretful grief. Certainly, not much could be done for her situation at this point.

Besides, Katsumi _was_ enjoying himself. Despite being disgusting and depraved, there was no doubt he was enjoying himself. Ayumu then reflected on how little enjoyment she herself had been given lately and she burned with envy. Why did she have to endure such awful things on a regular basis? She was sick of being sad and scared. She wanted to feel something else. She...She wanted to _take_ something for herself. She didn't care where it came from. It's better than nothing -

In her heart, Ayumu balked at how low her standards had sunk. She needed to reconsider where this headed for. This was his idea of happiness. This was what it meant for him to be happy: _this_. Was she that desperate? The unanimous vote resounded. Yes. She _was_ that desperate.

Ayumu reminded herself next of Katsumi's crimes, determined to keep her hatred if not her dignity intact; unlike Katsumi, she had one reasonable brain cell left intact. Oh, how she _hated_ him, had every possible reason to hate him. He kidnapped her. He took pictures of her. He wouldn't stop _stalking her_. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him.

Her head curled into the floor, Ayumu slowly with great reluctance participated with Katsumi in the primitive rhythm.

Unfortunately, Katsumi paused. "_Oh_."

Ayumu hissed like a boiling kettle. My, wasn't Katsumi prone to notice when Ayumu didn't want him to! When she wanted him to fixate on his selfishness as he did kidnapping her, he defied her expectations. That or she was cursed with poor time perception. Who knew which it was?

"Here, allow me," Katsumi uttered, voice octaves higher from throat compression, practically bordering on falsetto. It proved hysterically funny to some remote part of Ayumu's mind. Her twitching lips curved. She wouldn't be able to control herself. This situation just kept getting ridiculous; it was too much. If only her pent-up laughter didn't burden her own throat more.

Driving onwards, Katsumi inserted a knee at Ayumu's crotch while she rolled upwards in a drunken chain reaction. And as with any collision, the impact had her fly out the safety of her personal space. Their chests parallel, Katsumi's face hovered directly over Ayumu's, creating a false sense of intimacy. He grinned the barest outline of a grin. "Better, huh?"

The words Ayumu settled on were soft and plain from resigned humiliation. Her voice mirrored Katsumi's in being tissue-paper frail. "Damn you, Sako. I'm tired."

"I know you are," whispered Katsumi soothingly. He tried resting his forehead against Ayumu's but bumped it instead, ringing a redundant pain along the trail of her spine. Though Ayumu was hazy about her own body temperature, she could tell from Katsumi's forehead, he was feverish; his sweat peppered it oily like spattered cooking grease.

Katsumi's hands tightened anew at Ayumu's submission. Her thigh became engulfed by his twined legs and her eyes disappeared behind her skull. Guttural heaving sounds were squeezed out of Ayumu, her body thrashing as though in a seizure. In reflex, she also tightened her grip on Katsumi's neck. There burst a wet croak.

Ayumu's vision resembled an expired light bulb, dimming on and off to the beat of slimy taps to her skin. She could've mistaken herself being under a faucet not fully sealed but that was a mistake she couldn't fake commitment. Faucets didn't dribble around her face. Faucets didn't string syrupy webs. The inescapable truth was what kept Ayumu semi-conscious was Katsumi's own saliva.

Katsumi wasn't doing much better either; his veined eyes swam deep within the pink pits of his sockets like jellyfish and their tentacles. He leaned into Ayumu's chokehold, utilizing it to his unorthodox benefit. As a result, the majority of his blubbery tongue extended. It was engorged, an alien larvae emerging from a puffed cocoon. Pushing his thumbs at the base of Ayumu's neck, he got Ayumu's tongue to extend all the way as well, whining his approval. He waggled his tongue against hers to grotesque effect, sliding it on top before filling any space left.

In fact, Katsumi managed precisely at that moment to prevent Ayumu from swallowing or breathing altogether.

Ayumu's lungs were torched from the compression, saliva becoming liquid fire. Her throat welled up with fluid, invading, retreating; its excess streamed past her mouth's circumference. It spilled across the floor, matting her hair. She was, in short, drowning from the inside. Two fluids spilled...how many more would mix? How much more would she mix with Katsumi?

By then, Ayumu could feel her body had definitely gone wrong. She was somehow gaining pleasure enhanced by her lightheadedness. The drowning only spurred it on further. Instinct took control and set her body on autopilot; she couldn't stop rocking her hips, addicted to the repetitive motion, the flashes at her center. She was horrified. She was thrilled. She couldn't stop. Throwing her head back, she didn't bother containing her noises even if they were one continuous gurgle. It was just another form of moaning, another form of shamelessness. Her head banged into the wall over...and over...

Why, Ayumu could just imagine Hatori gazing from above, a perched bird, never too close, never to stay, ever ascending higher planes. She'd be disappointed that Ayumu couldn't rise above herself too.

Death drew in blotchy maroon, lungs hurting less and less. Ayumu was about to witness death. She knew of this exactly. She was sure of it. Neither she, nor Katsumi had breathed properly for at least several minutes. Their sinewy bodies were convulsing with the consistency of mating snakes. Her eyeballs jiggled loose, gooey red spreading behind egg white.

Oh, that's right: she skipped her scheduled appointments with breakfast and lunch today, two more added to the list of those she disappointed. No final meal for Ayumu; no wonder she wasn't tickled to vomit. Mother! Hot. Only sixteen! She's so close. Get him away! She won't let him get away. He's defiling her! Defile in turn.

Eventually, when it appeared Ayumu's very soul would be ripped off its hinges, Katsumi mashed both their lips sloppily in a bruising kiss. He snarled and sucked some of her saliva into his mouth, chilling her bones through their porous marrow. And it was all done.

Ayumu remained where she lay on the floor. Air didn't rejuvenate limbs weighted by the aftershock. She was sinking into the chipped tile, bestowing it with further indentations. Her half-closed eyes searched upwards as if for a sign.

...that wasn't blood on their legs...

...that wasn't saliva on their legs...

It was a gross understatement but to Ayumu, she seemed...weird. Her head had lasting tingles at the back that left her further disoriented. It added to the mysterious sense that something important been broken, a "something" fixed on its status. Concerns regarding first kisses and last regrets faded amid its stirring shadow.

The silence ran for so long, Ayumu could glide on it. Glide it she did until time itself smeared present over the future on the mortal canvas.

Then Katsumi shattered it open. "I wish I took your picture. It would've looked so good in my album." He was crouched next to her, creaking like a closet door, ominous with content preferably locked dormant.

Ayumu waited for the silence to mend itself.

She waited in vain.

"Then again," swinging out an arm, Katsumi stuck his wizened head in Ayumu's face, "that won't be necessary."

Katsumi's babbling taxed his healing vocal chords, every sound, a stone upon the press. "Yeah, you'll...you'll be expelled. What'll you do? Where will you go?" He couldn't be polite and contain his excitement, he was that brazen. She should've done more to ravage that detestable voice so he couldn't squawk another note.

The drowsiness in Ayumu's expression gradually cleared. She looked straight at Katsumi, a lonely lighthouse beacon signaling a ship in circles. "You make everything seem so certain."

Ayumu swatted Katsumi away and he relented, flopping over onto his side. He was as content as a stuffed hog before the trip to the slaughterhouse. Ayumu wrinkled her nose in disgust. Katsumi only viewed her with bewildered amusement. Or was he cross-eyed?

It didn't matter. She had to escape. She had to escape this freak-show while she still could. While she still recognized who she was...

Swaying to and fro during her ascent, Ayumu worked to stabilize her legs' foundation. She was priceless, irony in motion. Here she reviewed how to stand when she should review for class.

"_Really_, Ayumu-chan?" Ayumu thought Katsumi to say.

After a quick trial and error, Ayumu found that tottering was the best she could manage. How lame, she scoffed aimlessly while concentrating more effort. An infant had better potential. Her joints were of cheap plastic: left, right, left, right. What had happened to her?

Ayumu heard a jingle to her step. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the silvery gleam of metal on the floor. A razor? She cringed. No, it was a key. Katsumi had tossed an innocent key at her feet. It formed a temporary wing, its hoop serving as a metal halo, peddling salvation too little, too late.

Meanwhile, Katsumi propped his boneless mass up by the wall. Unlike Ayumu, he made zero effort to move. But his arrogant stance filtered through how tired he was. "All right. Try explaining yourself to them. It's _bound_ to work eventually. Just keep _trying_," he gloated with a crooked smirk that laughed in secret.

Ayumu glanced over at Katsumi. His taunt poked the embers of Ayumu's spirit but nothing greater than to rival. Her practice of damage begetting damage took its toll and paid its price.

Ayumu inserted the ordinary key into the ordinary door, the same door that served as a prolonged endeavor on her part. The door went about its programmed routine. She learned it was an inanimate object. She also learned the knob operated the other way.

Ayumu exited. She sheltered herself in such basic actions. They made pretending easier. And so Ayumu pretended not to notice Katsumi, left not to gather brainpower but to gather fingertips at his knee.


End file.
